Her turn—she won, rolled a 6. His boxers dropped, and there it was—straight out, thick, impressive. She whistled. "Where's the tape?" He grabbed a ruler, handed it over. She fumbled, avoiding contact, but he shifted, forcing her to grab it.
"Under eight," she said, then watched it grow to nine in her hand. "Okay, you win," she conceded, stunned. He winked at the camera, mouthing, "I'm gonna f*ck your wife."
